


The Process

by IObse33



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Cars, Character Death, Death, Horror, Melancholy, Reflection, Self-Reflection, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IObse33/pseuds/IObse33
Summary: Staring death in the face, there is a surprising amount of emotions and thoughts to work through, even in shock.
Kudos: 9





	The Process

Staring down onto the conveyor belt on which he was soon to be dropped, you'd expect panic to radiate from Leland. Staring death in the face, hung above the contraption designed specifically to destroy cars and mold them into a cube. It would make you shiver,listening to the wry grind and shriek of old metal gears partially rusted over. These mechanics were meant for the processing of already passed cars, not one still driving. 

Yet here hung Leland, tied up by his rear axles,rope hung onto a hook attached to a crane. His song of death was of creaking metal and old run down cars probably still cost to death than him still laughing and cheering on his soon to be painful demise. It was a shrill song that echoed and bounced off the walls of the warehouse in which they were hidden and yet still, Leland was not even terrified. 

As his front tires hung low below him,reaching for the conveyor belt to nothing, he felt something akin to remorse,a small hint of sadness,but mostly was nearing acceptance, a calm tugging at the back of his consciousness. Of course, signing up for this job he knew the risks. Spies disappeared left and right, the lesser skilled generally. He hag more than thirty years under his belt. It was a simple goof on his party, one his years of experience don't warrant for. Being chased by the perpetrators,he had taken a left instead of a right,cornering himself into a crevice trapped within the building,nothing adorning the walls, walls smooth, sleek metal. No escape. 

Perhaps a little remorse. He'll never have nor had a family, all there was to look forward to was perhaps some days of old age and relaxation, more years to come of adrenaline. 

Maybe today was all those possible futures years of adrenaline packed into one. 

He is jerked, and then slowly lowered. 

Remorse, and sadness, for he would be losing his one buddy. In this line of work,there's not much room for relationship, family, friendship or romantic, but one particular spy he'd had a mission with. It had gone particularly well, minimal complications and they worked directly side by side majority of the time. They had built a forced relationship of trust and friendship. It felt everything more than simply forced. 

One Friendship amidst a sea of nothing starts to mean near all the world,especially when it is within your job. 

He nears the conveyor belt,a for away,and the fear sets in. His eyes widen, his pupils shrinking. 

He struggles, the shock had finally worn off. He wants not to die, the tugging, ebbing of acceptance has vanished, and still he races towards death,tires making first contact with the conveyor belt, a low, continuous groan with an eventual hiccup as it travels over a support bar. 

He doesn't want to leave his friend. Will he every know?how will he find out?

Where will he go?

There's no memorial burial in mind for him, a lousy corpse, another drowning sore amidst a sea of metal corpses. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Comes the metal crusher, up and down, up and down, a mouth of compressed stone. 

He doesn't tremble, only try to scramble backwards, but its futile. His rear axles can barely shift, tied so right. There's no end to his story, only a cliffhanger. 

Closet. Inches. Centimeters. He gasps, petrified. 

Crunch? Chomp?

What did he hear first?

Ah, nothing. 


End file.
